Hi, everyone. Choppedthony Unctano here, the internet's busiest music nerd. It's time for a classic review of The Clash's London Calling.

This is the third full-length studio album of the legendary UK-based punk rock outfit The Clash, released in 1979 in the UK, 1980 in the US. It was a double album that showed the group continuing to move away from the pure punk rock roots of their debut album — incorporating more elements of ska and R&B, rockabilly, and reggae, too — while still maintaining a very rough and wild edge.

The band was already starting to diversify their sound on the record previous to this one, Give 'Em Enough Rope, and this broadening of The Clash's style was also evidenced in many of the openers that played with them stateside in 1979, too. Legends like Sam & Dave, Bo Diddley, Screamin' Jay Hawkins, and The Cramps, who were up and coming at the time.

So, after firing their previous manager and finding a new place to record, Mick Jones and Joe Strummer got over the writer's block they were said to be suffering through at the time through a tight, constant schedule of jamming and experimenting to just see how much further they could explore outside of punk. The band ended up busting out two albums worth of songs about injustice, drugs, and world weariness. Across the record, there's actually a pretty persistent anxiety around the apocalypse and the end of the world, and it's almost as if the band is responding to these feelings by wanting to just have things go out with a bang musically, leading The Clash to reach levels of instrumental ambition that we just haven't seen on previous projects.

Now, as for the cover of this album, that would be none other than the great Paul Simonon smashing his bass on stage in New York City in 1979, angered by the fact that, I guess, the concert goers couldn't stand on their feet at the time of the performance. Penny Smith, who took the photo, was unsure about using it because it's not so in focus; however, the band loved the picture. (And, I mean, it is a great photo!) But yeah, the band obviously lifted the text graphics from that classic Elvis record with similar font and titling on it. And there you go! You have one of the most iconic album covers ever made.

London Calling is obviously one of the most iconic albums ever made. It's a record that consistently makes 'Greatest Album of All Time' list after 'Greatest Album of All Time' list — and for good reason. I mean, many of this record's best qualities hold up so well after all these years. The messaging, the songwriting, the very slick the detailed production, the energetic performances...

But also London Calling is handily one of the most consistent double albums of all time. Few records are this good at 19 tracks in length, with not only every single song contributing to a listen that is greater than the sum of its parts, but also every cut on this thing stands well on its own. I mean, the record, handily, has one of the best opening tracks of all time, too: the title track, which is this cinematic, urban rock anthem with all these dystopian and apocalyptic proclamations coming from Joe Strummer in the lyrics. It's absolutely chilling but also epic in every sense of the word, with melty guitar solo passages and an absolutely iconic bass line. It's rare you get a bass line in a track like this that works as the rhythmic backbone for the song but simultaneously is the lead melody of the track, too, one that you end up humming when you walk away from the song. Also, just the persistent marching groove of the track just increases the tension of it so greatly.

But after such a regimented, tight, and almost militaristic rock tune, we settle down into something a lot looser with "Brand New Cadillac", which, to me, is like the pure definition of punk. Not in that it sounds exactly like a Ramones song or Sex Pistols song per se, but in that, at its core, it is a rowdy and unruly reinterpretation of rock and roll aesthetics. It's this low-down, rockabilly song with pounding drums, simple driving guitars, and Joe Strummer's unhinged lead vocal squawking like a broken saxophone.

The following track, "Jimmy Jazz", has a similar chord progression with a turnaround, too. But rather than fully rocking out, The Clash here are more trying to set a scene with a slow burner intro, whistling, very wild acoustic guitar embellishments, zany bits of bar band, horn, and piano — all to help Joe tell this story of a guy who is essentially on the run from the cops. It's just funny to hear him deliver this song, deliver these lyrics in a fashion that feels like he's just recollecting all of this from memory, or off the top of his head, and he can't quite seem to get down all the details.

The song "Hateful" is one of many displays of The Clash's hook-writing prowess on this project, too. ("Anything I want / He gives it to me!") The track is essentially a simple but still all too true portrayal of a person's relationship with drugs and a drug dealer, in that the drugs are obviously easy to access and have all sorts of short term benefits or ups, but you end up paying for them in more ways than one.

Following this, we get the track "Rudie Can't Fail", and while The Clash have always, to some degree, been influenced by ska and reggae, this is handily one of their best tracks in that lane. Songs like this also obviously coincide with the explosion of second wave and two-tone ska in the UK at the time. And you can most definitely hear it: the title itself is a reference to the burgeoning rudeboy culture that was happening. Now, obviously, what The Clash do with this style is more of a rock spin, but the nimble bass lines and celebratory horn section still come through.

Meanwhile, "Spanish Bombs" is pretty much a top three Clash song for me and embodies everything that ever made The Clash great: the anthemic songwriting and lyrically vivid verses, Joe Strummer's vocal swagger, rock solid bass and drums. Then we have this concept that references back to the Spanish Civil War in the '30s and juxtaposes that against modern political struggles at the time. Just a social mindfulness that is being put in a way that is smarter, is more nuanced than what The Clash were maybe doing on their debut album with "I'm so Bored with the USA", for example. (I mean, I agree, but still.) Also, you got to love how much the keys and acoustic guitar add to the body of this song, as well as the fungled, Spanglish refrains.

Deeper into the record, "The Right Profile" shares a lot of overlap with "Jimmy Jazz" in that, yet again, you are getting a rockin', theatrical character portrait. The song mentions its subject by name, the actor Montgomery Clift, whose highly publicized spiral into drugs and alcohol gets an unflattering portrayal here from different perspectives, mostly gawking passers-by who are shocked by his tattered appearance and crashed car. The sound of this track is very slick and clever for a supposed "punk" group; it's like a ritzy New York horn band after a few shots soundtracking this one sad man's self destruction.

"Lost In the Supermarket" is yet another top three Clash song for me, and it's a pop tune from them, a song that could go down pretty well at the discothèque. It's a smooth, groovy tune with yet another career-defining bass line. I love how subtle and quiet the presentation of this track is, and yet it is still so irresistibly danceable, as well as unnerving, given that the supermarket on this track is pretty much a metaphor for life in the world that we exist in, with Joe Strummer reflecting on all of this alienation and loneliness. He's also being surrounded by all of these unsettling noises, people fighting, with some small reprieves here and there.

After this, the track "Clampdown" is one of the most thrilling arena rock-sized cuts on the record, opening up with this desperate call of, "What are we going to do now?" I would say the messaging on this track is more powerful than ever, with the idea of a clampdown, or the clampdown, being used to describe oppressive ends that, in life, you either choose to serve or reject. That could come by way of authoritarianism and government fascism, or even by giving in to the boss at a factory.

Then we are getting more career-defining bass lines on "The Guns of Brixton". Another reggae-flaved cut, probably The Clash's is best. Again, the beat and bass line on this track are just so next level; the vibe is ominous. Very few songs in this style, I think, are this creepy as the lyrics on this cut ask, or rather confront, the listener with the idea of what they'll do when an oppressive force is at their door.

This is also one of the few Clash songs that features Paul on vocals, too. Again, just the prescience of this song — not only because shortly after its release, we actually saw the Brixton Riots over in the UK, but also looking at the continued prevalence of police brutality in light of something like the Black Lives Matter protests — it all just further adds to this song's significance.

The song, "Wrong 'Em Boyo", is a peppier number in the tracklist that brings more ska rock antics, a bright horn section, some killer hand drum fills. It's actually a cover of a song by The Rulers from about a decade earlier. It's really a Jamaican original that is all about questioning somebody who is so greedy and desperate that they will basically do anything they can to make a single, small, smidge of a gain, either monetarily or in terms of, I don't know, their status.

"Koka Kola" is the fastest and shortest song on the entire record and reinforces a lot of similar themes to "Wrong 'Em Boyo" in that it essentially gives us this really quick depiction of the coke-fueled world of New York corporate advertising. After this, "The Card Cheat" reinforces more themes of drugs, destitution, and power, personalizing a lot of them in this super melodramatic performance that is attached probably the biggest sounding instrumental on the entire record, with grand piano, blaring saxophones, and some battle-ready trumpets, too.

The song "Lover's Rock" further adds to the diversity of the record, too, especially thematically because this is obviously the most romantic-sounding song on the record. It's got some very cheeky, raunchy meta-writing as well, with some nods to spreading seed and birth control pills as well.

From here, we move into really strong ending. To my ears, it sounds like The Clash, at this point on the record, recorded what were four really great closing tracks, and either of them could have worked. But instead of picking, instead of choosing, it's like they just used them all.

I feel like this record really could have ended with "Four Horsemen" if they wanted to. It's such an epic and triumphant song. Again, the titling further contributes to the feelings of the end of the world and the apocalypse. But also, "I'm Not Down" is a really feel-good and fun finish to the record, too, potentially. So groovy, so fast, so catchy, such an emotional lift on the record.

But then also, "Revolution Rock" is a great reggae cut, too, that feels like such a necessity in this tracklist. How could we end before "Revolution Rock"? This track is also a rendition, specifically of a song originally recorded by reggae artist Danny Ray. Not only do The Clash do a great job of recreating a lot of the track's most special details, but the song ends with this really lively jam at the finish, too.

But then even after this, the band is not done because the record actually finishes with "Train in Vain (Stand By Me)", the last song here, which apparently was the last song to be recorded as well. It was recorded so late into the album production process that, apparently, the tracklist was already away to the printer when this song was getting finished and finalized... and they just threw it on the record anyway. But this track works as a great finish, too, ending things in a sentimental, heartbreaking way. It's not exactly a bad way to do it. Again, I just find it so funny that this record effectively has four different potential closing tracks, and just all of them get used.

But again, another reason this record is so special is that it just has godly, next-level, completely unparalleled sequencing, and every single song just feels so essential to the experience of the album. Because even some of the greatest double albums do feel at some points that they're maybe a little bit bloated, but I can't say that for London Calling, not even a bit. I love the hell out of this record. It's a classic record for sure, without question.

The Clash. London Calling. Forever.